


with your reassurance

by IronSwordStarShield (SweetFanfics)



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: (not so married either you'll see what i mean in the notes), (wildly canon divergent in the ending notes), Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, Jealous Steve, M/M, Married Pepper Potts/Tony Stark in the background, Mild canon divergence, Missing Scene, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Past Relationship(s), mild introspection on missed chances, tony giving steve hope again, yearning steve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-03
Updated: 2019-07-03
Packaged: 2020-06-03 14:14:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19465687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetFanfics/pseuds/IronSwordStarShield
Summary: A "What If" scenario where: what if Steve and Tony were ex's who broke up because of CA:CW and what if Steve & company had accepted Tony's offer to stay for lunch in Endgame.





	with your reassurance

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by two things: a comment Jini made about the energy between Steve and Tony in Endgame was so much like "Divorced but still in love with each other" and I really wanted to get into Steve's head and the "what if they'd stayed for lunch? What would it have been like?"

For five long years, Steve had let ennui eat away at him. And then Scott Lang had showed up at the Avengers compound gate, bearing hope like a torch in the dark. If those five years had been Steve sinking and staying at the bottom of the pool, then Scott’s idea was the hand that had pulled Steve up. That first painful gasp of air after a prolonged period of holding his breath had been dizzying. And in that rush, Steve’d encouraged Scott and Natasha to join him on a trip to Tony’s home. 

He really wishes he hadn’t done that. 

Steve admits that he’s been selfish in this whole matter, which isn’t something he’d thought literally two hours ago when they’d shown up at Tony’s door and he’d firmly but gently refused to help them. At the time, Steve’d felt _so much_ bitter disappointment, he’d been surprised it hadn’t wafted out of his mouth in a visible noxious fume. Because how could Tony do that? Deny help on their best chance of success? Steve can understand and respect that Tony didn’t want to put his family, his daughter, at risk but... he’d thought that Tony’d _get it_.

_Maybe you don’t know Tony as well as you used too,_ the thought had hit Steve like a bolt out of blue, right as Tony had let Morgan crawl into his lap. It was a painful blow, the realization that in five years there’s parts of Tony that Steve doesn’t know anymore. It had hurt, more than the first sight of Tony with his daughter when they’d pulled up. Steve’d felt so envious in that moment, a pit yawning open in his stomach with yearning. Once upon a time, years and years ago, _they’d_ talked about this... living together. Building a family. 

Those dreams are dust and Steve’s the one who ground them into fine ash with his own actions. 

But there’s other parts of Tony that haven’t changed, like his generosity when he’d invited them to stay for lunch. Steve’s first instinct had been to say no. But the prospect of staying, seeing Tony’s home, catching up, had been too much to resist. It’d been a lovely lunch all things considered. There’d been some awkward silences here and there but polite small talk had given way to familiar bantering. It’d felt good. Steve’d felt like yet another missing piece of the puzzle had clicked into place.

But there was still that yearning in him, that deepend every time Tony or Pepper smiled at each other, or when Tony’d turn his attention to his daughter. Steve’s ashamed to admit he’d felt envious every time Tony’d turn to Morgan, hyper aware of her actions and vigilant of her every need. Fatherhood suits Tony Stark, a lot of people would be surprised to know that. But it doesn’t surprise Steve. Tony’s always been the caretaker type, so of course he’d be a great dad.

And Steve can’t help but notice how _good_ Tony looks as well. He doesn’t look half as well maintained as he used to back in the day. There’s more grey peppering his beard, which is lacking its usual sharply defined lines. He’s wearing the most comfortable looking sweater and jeans. He looks at home. And now that Steve’s seen Tony in his element, in his home, with his daughter, his wife, he feels so fucking crummy. Because he’s got no right to barge into Tony’s home and _demand_ his help. That thought brings back memories of when Tony’d returned to the compound after three weeks in space, of how he’d accused Steve after his return and slapped his arc reactor into Steve’s hands. Steve can still feel the weight of the triangular arc reactor in his hand. He turns, dirty dishes in hand, and looks at Tony, who stands at the sink, washing up the first round of dirty dishes. Now that he’s stopped to think about it (God, why hadn’t he thought this _through_?), Tony’s been so damn gracious to them. It’s a wonder he hadn’t thrown them out on their asses when they’d shown up unannounced. 

Steve’s heart sinks when he realizes that he’d held onto the hope that he still knew Tony. That despite their break-up, the years apart, he would- _they_ would be welcomed by Tony with open arms and gratitude. But no. Tony had appeared shocked at the sight of them. Curious when Scott had eagerly explained his idea, and quickly turned wearily resigned as he’d explained why Scott’s idea couldn’t work. Steve’s disappointment had stemmed from the simple fact that Tony didn’t want to be on hi-their side. 

An additional source of disappointment? The complete lack of reaction Tony had had towards him. Steve’d expected. No, _hoped_ that seeing him obviously dressed up would inspire _some_ reaction from Tony. But there’d been nothing. The little bit of hope that Steve had childishly, stupidly clung to, that had urged him to dress up, to put on the jacket Tony had gifted him on Steve’s first Christmas out of the ice, had died a hundred deaths during the meal. He’d felt so ridiculous. What was he thinking? Trying to impress his ex who has very clearly moved on.

_That’s my whole issue,_ Steve glumly reminds himself as he stacks the dirty plates together. _I’ve got no sense of fucking timing. I always wait too long or I make a shitty call. I suck at this whole romance thing_ . Not that that’s any surprise given that he’s only liked a grand total of three people in his thirty-ish years of living and only dated _one_ of them. 

Steve puts the plates down next to sink, cautiously and with as little noise as possible, while Tony stacks the salad bowls onto the drying rack. Guilt loosens Steve’s tongue and has him saying, “I’m sorry for imposing like this.”

“I invited you to stay for lunch, remember?” Tony easily counters, plucking a plate from the pile Steve’s just deposited. 

Water washes away the streaks of gravy and ketchup on the plate as Tony directs the sprayer over the plate. Steve watches the careful but easy manner in which Tony does this. He’s used to this. Steve can’t recall ever seeing Tony doing anything this domestic back when they used to live together in the Tower and then later at the compound. It makes his throat close up for some reason. 

Steve swallows past the dryness but it doesn’t help. His voice is hoarse when he admits, “I meant how we showed up expecting your help. I’m sorry for assuming that.”

Tony pauses. There’s nothing but the sound of rushing water hitting the ceramic plate for a long few, shameful, seconds. Steve stares at the plate, at the delicate geometric border edging it. He holds back a flinch when Tony exhales, controlled but tired. 

“I get why you did it. I just wish you’d called before you’d showed up.”

Steve wants to make excuses but he holds his tongue. Instead he nods sharply, still unable to look at Tony. “I’m sorry.”

He catches Tony nodding out of the corner of his eye and allows himself to breath. But Steve has to try because he owes to everyone to at least _try_. “Is there really no way that you can help?”

The look that Tony gives him is heartbreaking. “I’m sorry. I really can’t risk it.” 

A chill wraps itself around Steve’s lungs, making his next breath painful. Steve nods carefully and chides himself for assuming that Tony would be ready to lay his body down on the wire again. For hoping that he, _they_ would be worth the risk.

Morgan’s sudden and delighted cry pulls Steve and Tony’s attention to the living room. “You like robots too?” she’s exclaiming happily.

Scott replies, “Sure do! Who’s your favorite robot?”

“Wall-E!”

The innocent happiness in her answer is a breath of warm air that thaws the cold chill covering his lungs. Scott asks the little girl why she likes Wall-E and she dives into a list of reasons. Steve inhales deeply, relaxing as he leans back against the counter. “She’s a great kid.”

The pride that shines in Tony’s eyes is beautiful. There’s no other word for it; the man lights up like a star, a planet caught in Morgan’s orbit as he turns in the direction of her voice where she’s rattling off why she likes Robot from Lost in Space. “The best.”

“Totally your kid,” Steve can’t stop himself from teasing.

Tony’s grin is easy and joyful, and still so filled with pride. Morgan is obviously the light of his life and Steve finds his envy and jealousy withering under the sight of Tony’s love for his daughter. “Yeah? You think so?”

“She’s gushing about robots in there. 100% your kid.”

Tony laughs. It hits Steve that it’s been years since he’s heard Tony laugh. Almost eight damn years as a matter of fact. And isn’t that a kick in the teeth. But Steve sucks the hurt back in, wills himself to not focus on the hurt throbbing underneath the messy bandages he’s wrapped around his wounds. And instead, focus on this cozy little mood that’s building between them. It’s cozy in a way that brings back treasured memories of stolen moments. Back when things were still good between them.

Yearning pulls at his center, a hook caught in tender flesh but refusing to let go. Steve’s drawn to the force, to Tony’s gravity as much as he’s always revolving around Morgan. Between the mood and the collision of “I want this” and “I could have had this”, Steve finds his guard dropping because. Well. That’s Tony’s impact on him. 

“Fatherhood suits you,” Steve confesses, from a place of longing admiration.

Tony runs a self-conscious hand over his beard, the stubble scrapping against his palm audibly. “I dunno. This is the messiest I’ve ever been. Having a kid means you don’t often have time to take care of how you look. Best thing you can do is to grab whatever you’ve got and hope it doesn’t have milk stains on it.”

Huffing a quiet laugh, Steve corrects himself, “I didn’t mean your clothes. I meant...” He sweeps a hand to gesture at Tony’s body, his presence, the ease of his shoulders. “Generally speaking.”

His breath catches in his throat when Tony shoots him a teasing look. “So you’re agreeing that I’m looking like a mess?”

_Fuck. What’s going on?_ Steve wonders dizzily. He doesn’t get it; why is Tony flirting with him? The sudden U-turn this conversation has just taken creates an audible skidmark noise in his head and leaves Steve floundering. And unfortunately for him, when he’s mentally floundering, when the connection between his brain and mouth snaps, his mouth goes off on auto-pilot. So he’s left spluttering, “No! No! You look good! You look amazing.”

And the thing that makes Steve want to bury his face in his hands and let the heat crawling up his neck to swallow him whole is how the confession comes from a place of truth, one that he’s been trying to keep under wraps since they’d arrived at the lakehouse. His heart races, like in those early, early days whenever Tony’d smile at him like he is now, with painfully gentle tenderness.

“You look good too. Couldn’t help but notice the jacket. I knew it’d look good on you.”

Steve ducks his head, smiling at his boots at the memory of Tony gifting him that jacket, well before they’d even tentatively _hinted_ their feelings about each other. If he closes his eyes, Steve can bring himself back to that moment, sitting on the couch, opening that fancy white gift box with the golden ribbon, and pulling out this buttery-leather black jacket. He can recall Tony’s smile with picture-perfect clarity and how he’d said this was hopefully the first step to help Steve modernize his wardrobe. He’d kept it like a treasured item, letting it hang in his closet for “special occasions” that never manifested themselves because they’d been so caught up in their work and Avenger missions. Until today.

Fighting back what is surely the world’s wobbliest smile, Steve peeks at Tony. “You’ve got a good eye.” 

His heart is going mad inside of his chest. It’s racing, pounding away in Steve’s ears like it’s on a mission to exhaust itself. Or trip over its own feet and faceplant or something because God, this is too much. After almost a decade of wearing himself out under self-flagellation and guilt’s boots? Of thinking that he’d _never_ be worthy of Tony’s smile, his kindness again? This is too much for Steve’s poor heart to handle. 

Steve’s helpless in the face of Tony’s mild flirting. It’s cruel and irresistible temptation, like dangling a cheese burger under the nose of a starving man. It’s finding hope after a decade of making yourself believe there was no hope to be found. God. He didn’t think that Scott’s return would lead to this moment. He can’t... he shouldn’t be doing this. It’s not right. It’s not fair.

He breathes out a sigh of relief when Morgan patters into the room and throws herself into Tony’s legs, hugging them as she says, “Daddy, I want a juice pop please.”

There’s something in the smile Tony directs his way, something that gets under Steve’s skin and makes him feel like there’s electricity running through his veins. It’s like a secret he doesn’t understand, if that makes any sense. But it’s gone in a blink, the look replaced with fondness as he drawls, “Well, the little miss insists.”

Without asking Morgan to let go, or making any attempt to detach her, Tony begins a slow shuffle towards the fridge, causing Morgan to giggle. It makes Steve’s fingers itch with the desire to grab his phone and film this because this Tony at his best - most gentle, most loving, most caring. He teases the little girl but he also picks her up in a hug, brushes her hair back, kisses her forehead - he spoils her with love and she basks in it. 

She might be the sun in the center of Tony’s world, but he is also the sun to her sunflower. 

It’s painfully lovely to see father and daughter in action, especially when Morgan sneaks a peek at him over Tony’s shoulder before she whispers something to him that Steve doesn’t fully understand. As well spoken as she is, her enunciation still needs more work. But Tony seems to understand her well enough because he laughs and says, “Sure. You can ask him.”

Morgan attempts to scramble onto Tony’s shoulder but Tony curls his hand into her pullover and she winds up hanging there as she holds a colorful popsicle out towards Steve. “Do you want one? It’s mango.”

Steve’s eyes glance over at Tony, silently seeking his permission. Tony smiles back, giving the smallest of nods. Steve steps forward to accept the cold, sweet treat. “Thank you Morgan.”

“Can I have one too?” Scott interrupts.

Tony and Steve turn as one, Morgan letting out a happy yelp at the sudden motion before Tony realizes she’s still dangling off his shoulder and shifts her into a more comfortable position. Scott’s standing at the corner, next to a smiling Natasha who adds in, “I’d like a juice pop too please”

“Yes you can!” Morgan happily tells the pair.

Tony shakes his head, “I never agreed to this.” 

Morgan pouts. It’s the most adorable thing Steve’s ever seen. “But they used the magic word.”

“True. But our agreement was only Steve could get a juice pop.” 

Despite what he’s saying, Tony’s heading back towards the fridge. Morgan’s pout deepens into a frown. “But they said please.”

“True,” Tony sighs as he opens the freezer door before he hefts Morgan higher up in his arms. “Pick two.”

_Push over,_ Steve thinks with tremendous fondness as Morgan plucks two more popsicles out of the freezer before she bounces over to Scott and Natasha to share. Tony smiles proudly on.

His heart transforms, growing and growing with every beat as he watches Tony and his little family. It’s familiar territory, being on this side of the fence and feeling hunger towards someone, aching for them. But Steve’d forgotten how that hunger can turn dark, can turn inward and in a heartbeat, change the love into something monstrously sad. When Pepper walks in and Tony kisses her, a thoughtless kiss pressed into her strawberry blonde hair, Steve’s hunger bleeds black over his mood.

_That_ is the bitter, painful reminder that he’s missed his chance. That he’d misread Tony’s kindness before as flirtatious. That Steve’s an idiot who let his ego get in the way of something wonderful and he’s got no one to blame but himself for the break-up. And that he was so fucking stupid to assume, when he’d gone on the run, that Tony would wait for him. Because why would he? Steve’d betrayed his trust so completely. Why would Tony have waited? Of course he’d move on. 

Steve’s mood is bleak and joyless as a winter storm. The wind, the guilt, cuts into his skin and leaves behind frostbitten pieces of his heart. As he shrugs his jacket on, ready to walk out of the lakehouse and focus on the mission, Tony’s hand drops on his shoulder.

“Can I talk to you for a quick second?” He says, glancing over at the others with a smile. “You guys can go on ahead. We’ll catch up in a minute.”

Startled, Steve blinks at Tony, waiting for him to explain himself. But Tony waits until Pepper, Morgan, Natasha, and Scott have left, for the front door to click close before he looks up and Steve and asks, “Are you okay?”

“Sure,” Steve answers on auto-pilot. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Tony stares him down and because he’s not all there, Steve doesn’t do anything but stare back at Tony. He can’t admit to this tar-like darkness that’s sticking to him, dragging him under due to the weight of his own heavy heart. Tony doesn’t deserve that. Steve can’t do that to Tony; they’re not in that place where he _can_. But also, it doesn’t matter now, does it? Tony’s moved on. He’s dealt with his regrets and he’s in a good place now. Steve’s not going to be that guy who’ll drag their past out and lay his own unresolved feelings at Tony’s feet and demand something that Tony can’t give. It wouldn’t be fair.

Steve feels his mind being dragged back under the gray dense fog that’s taken up space between his ears when Tony steps forward. He barely gets time to blink when Tony’s in his space and pressing their lips together in a kiss. Steve lets out a startled noise and jerks back instinctively, hands on Tony’s shoulders.

It’s as effective as being slapped, the shock of the sudden softness and Tony’s beard tickling his lips. “What the-” Steve begins but Tony’s there again. 

Rough palms cup his cheeks and force his attention squarely on Tony’s determined eyes. “You’re going to be fine. You’re going to go back to the compound, call Bruce, and figure out a way to make this thing work. I know you will. You know why?” 

Slowly, dumbly, Steve shakes his head.

“Because you, Steve Rogers, don’t know when to give up. And you don’t let things go south on your watch. Because in here?” One of Tony’s hands slide down to rest on Steve’s chest, over his racing heart. “You’re a fighter and you don’t give up, even when there’s a one in a trillion chance of winning. Because even _that’s_ enough of a reason to get back up and keep fighting.”

Plenty of people have believed in Steve and Captain America. They’ve said as much to him or about him. But there’s something different about hearing it from _Tony_ . After five years of feeling useless, powerless, and utterly emasculated, Steve doesn’t just feel hopeful that there’s a chance to fix things. But Steve feels a genuine spark of _belief_ . That they will _succeed_ in their goal. He has Tony Stark’s personal reassurance after all. 

Steve hopes the day never comes (again) where he doesn’t have Tony changing his life with a single sentence. Relieved of his burden and so terribly grateful of the fact that Tony still cares for him enough to comfort him, Steve picks up Tony’s hand off his chest and kisses the center of his palm with gratitude. “Thank you Tony.”

“You’re welcome,” Tony squeezes his hand back. “Come on. Let me walk you out.”

**Author's Note:**

> I swear I had more planned but its almost 2AM and I'd like to sleep. But here's how the rest of it would go.
> 
> Tony would survive the snap because comic rules of the Infinity Gauntlet. He understands the true power and potential of the gauntlet and maintains focus long enough to complete the task at hand and does it without destroying himself. Following the events of the comics, Tony pretends to destroy the gauntlet but in reality the Illuminati council is formed and different parties (probably the Avengers themselves in this case) decide to hide the gems.
> 
> Before they leave, Steve stops Tony and he asks about that kiss. And Tony doesn't meet his eye, tries to brush it off as just a comfort thing. You looked like you could use a little hope. And Steve's like, you didn't have to do it that way though. And Tony, kind of cornered, softly admits that Steve had been looking so sad that day and Tony'd wanted to help him so he'd just... 
> 
> Hopeful beyond words, Steve asks if Tony still might... have feelings? And Tony doesn't say anything but because he doesn't meet Steve's eyes... "What about Pepper?" "Long story short? Not married, was a PR thing." "But...Morgan?" Tony looks away with a wince. "We did... try again but... She's ours." Hesitation pours out of him when Tony asks, "Is that going to be a problem?" "Never. She's your daughter." Steve says because that says it all.
> 
> They kiss, get back together, find a property super near the lake house so that they can be a stone throw away from Happy & Pepper. Tony keeps working at the Head of R&D at SI and Steve splits his time between being a SHIELD consultant and a mentor to the next generation of Avengers. And they all lived (more or less) happily ever after.


End file.
